


Confrontation and Conflict

by cherokeecaryl



Series: After [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Post-Promised Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-08 01:41:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherokeecaryl/pseuds/cherokeecaryl
Summary: The fact that he’s the one that starts this whole thing wounds him in great depth.





	1. Chapter 1

Alphonse recalls with perfect clarity the many reasons (excuses) he put out back when he was in denial and refused to enter a relationship with Mei. 

 

The first reason being she was, and still is, his teacher. Unprofessional? Unethical? Maybe. But they don’t care, and the people they love don’t care, either, so that is that. The council sure likes giving them grief about it, about many things, but Mei and Ling always say to ignore them, keep on being happy and generally avoid getting life and joy sucked out by a coven of soul eaters. 

 

Their words, not his. He agrees, though. 

 

The second reason always has to do with an ever present fact in their lives: Mei is a princess, a Crown Princess. And Alphonse is, well, not even close to being royalty. A foreign commoner, that’s more like it. Apart from the council, the people, the whispers, and the stares, it had always been the reality check waiting to happen what Alphonse feared about of that excuse. 

 

The silliest of his reasons, honestly, was the slight age difference between Mei and himself. Two years apart. He admits that the slap followed by the silent treatment he got after he told her that was a deserving punishment. 

 

But the one that truly scares Alphonse to this day, is the inevitability of fights in a relationship. As friends they did fight here and there, but a friends fight is just not the same as a couple’s fight. It’s just not. There’s so much at stake in a relationship, so much to lose, so much to win. Alphonse is still unable to decode the mysteries of being in love and being with the person he loves. 

 

He’s just never been one for confrontation and conflict. 

 

So the fact that he’s the one that starts this whole thing wounds him in great depth. 

 

*

They’re going over the long, long guest list for their Xingese wedding. They haven’t even started thinking about planning the Amestrian wedding, but Alphonse is starting to feel apprehension about having two separate wedding parties. But it’s what Mei wants, declaring she needs to embrace his culture wholeheartedly, the way he has hers, and he can’t find it in himself to deny her that. So two parties it is. 

 

“Let’s talk Amestrians in attendance for the Xingese wedding, indifferent to if they will go to the Amestrian wedding. Ooh, Alphonse, we need to start planning that one, too! You think the good Major will allow us to use his mansion like he did for your brother’s wedding?” 

 

Her bright eyes land on his own, and he chuckles. He pushes his hand through the complicated braids adorning her head this afternoon, messing them up slightly, and says, “We have time for that, let’s deal with this one right now, yeah? It’s only two months away.” 

 

She smiles and goes back to the guest list that lies in front of them. 

 

“General Mustang, of course!” 

 

“I hear he’s real close to changing his rank,” he throws in, and Mei raises and eyebrow in interest.

 

“We’ll have to check in on that before we send the invitation. Protocol completely changes when it involves leaders.” He can practically see the words of the book project before her eyes as she speaks. 

 

“I’ll call Hawkeye, if you like.” 

 

She nods along and says, “She’s invited, too, though it’s obvious they’re coming together. Honestly…” 

 

“They fool no one,” Al finishes for her. 

 

“Not even themselves. Is it a virus, you think?” She asks playfully, in reference to her own brother and his bodyguard. 

 

“At least we know there’s a cure, Your Highness.” 

 

“Oh, shut up!”

 

They burst out laughing and Mei, between her giggles, goes to Alphonse chair and falls on him. After, there are kisses and I love you’s, with both of them tapping into the Dragon’s Pulse to sense whatever presence is near them, to avoid an awkward situation like many times before. Alphonse still struggles with that particular task at times. 

 

Mei is leaving small kisses to his jawline when he sees it. 

 

Scribbled right under Zampano, the words jump out at him. **Mr Scar.**

 

Alphonse rips himself away from the chair, and Mei has to catch herself. 

 

“Al?! What—”

 

“What’s this?” He demands, shoving the piece of paper at her. 

 

“Our guest—”

 

“No,” he interrupts once more. “Why is Scar here?”

 

Mei freezes up and her eyes go cold. She says nothing. 

 

“No,” he says again. “He is _not_ coming to my wedding.” 

 

“It’s my wedding, too, Alphonse,” she snaps. 

 

“A wedding he’s not attending,” he replies hotly. “How could you even consider this?!”

 

“He saved my life, Alphonse. He’s like family to me, I’ll go as far to say he’s almost like a father—” 

 

“That is horrible! This man, he’s a _monster_ , and you’re willingly labeling him as your father figure?” 

 

“Right now, you’re being horrible. I care about him, and yes, I see him like a father,” she says in defiance.

 

“You haven’t even talked to him in years! Let alone seen him!” Guilt flashes Mei’s face and her lips, still red and swollen from when Al nipped at them, turn down. “Oh,” he realizes. “ _Oh_. You have been talking to him.”

 

“Yes,” she admits. 

 

“How long? Why didn’t I know?” 

 

“Is it not obvious?” 

 

“This man…he murdered countless of people! An innocent girl.” Nina. Innocent, sweet Nina, who was a victim of the world, her own father, and _Scar_. 

 

“A mercy,” she justifies. 

 

Alphonse continues, pretends he didn’t listen, even if he feels sick to his stomach. “Urey and Sarah Rockbell were family to me! They saved him, and he brutally murdered them. He’s the reason Winry grew up an orphan. He’s a murderer, Mei!” 

 

“So am I!” She bellows and Al’s million other accusations against Scar are forgotten and he is instead trapped in the glare she’s throwing him. 

 

Because he has always known, but it has never been acknowledged so upfront. 

 

“What? Has it just now occurred to you that you will be spending the rest of your life with a killer? The people I killed, some of them were my own blood, Alphonse. I’m a monster. And Ling is, too. What about Lan Fan, Hawkeye, Mustang? They killed someone’s parents, too. Didn’t they?” 

 

The list is now a crumbled ball in her fist. She looks down at it, drops it, and when she looks back at Alphonse there are tears forming in her eyes. 

 

“I think you need to think long and hard if you really want to marry a murderer like me.” 

 

She walks by him, away from him, the door is slammed closed. The sun is starting to set, but Alphonse can’t find the strength to move, to react, to chase after her. 

 

It’s true. Everything she said, it’s all true. She’s a murderer, but he doesn’t love her any less for it. There are reasons she became a killer, but that doesn’t change the fact that she took lives away, destroyed life. It doesn’t change the fact that all his life he’d been surrounded by murderers. Hawkeye, Mustang, Ling, Lan Fan, to name a few. They killed fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, husbands and wives. People.

 

He tries to take a deep breath but it catches in his throat and he chokes and crumbles like the ball of paper on the floor. Then he reacts, he realizes what this could mean for him and Mei, and he cries. He, like his brother, is not one for crying, but there are moments like this when the tears win any battle he puts up. 

 

It’s dark out now, so it’s been a while since she walked out, and Alphonse wonders how each passing minute is deadly to the situation. Still, he remains where he is, curled up on himself on the floor of his bedroom, the lavish living space Ling had gifted him upon his arrival to Xing. He doesn’t set out to look for her, and hates himself a little for it, but he does start thinking if there’s a way out of this. 

 

But the single thought of Scar makes him sneer. Alphonse has always thought he could never truly hate someone, but Scar is he one person that defies his convictions. 

 

What would Winry think, what would she do, if she saw the beast that killed her parents at his wedding. 

 

His eyes land on the phone on his nightstand. Long distance calls are still a novelty and luxury, but a privilege he could splurge on as an Amestrian Ambassador, even though he often just uses it to talk to Brother and Winry. He’s picking up the phone, suddenly, and dialing the number he knows by heart now. 

 

It takes about ten seconds for the line to connect, the tone goes on for about another half a minute, until the familiar voice of is brother answers the call. 

 

“Hello?” 

 

“Brother,” Alphonse sighs into the phone. 

 

“Al? Hey, are you okay?” 

 

He knows Ed, and Ed knows him. 

 

“No.” 

 

“Tell me what’s wrong?” 

 

He then hears that there’s tiredness in his brother’s voice, and when he goes to check the time, he instantly regrets having called without a second thought. 

 

“It’s so late there. I’m so sorry, Ed.” 

 

“No, hey, it’s fine. No one is getting a blink of sleep in this house. Winry is in one of her engineering moods and,” he huffs in embarrassment, “well, it’s not easy to sleep without her by my side, you know?” Alphonse doesn’t have to see it to know Edward is blushing a furious red right now. “Even if I wanted to go to sleep, your nephew also turned out to be a night owl like his mother. He’s refusing to sleep, and I’ve given up. And honestly? My trip to Xing did mess up my sleeping schedule.”

 

The corners of Al’s mouth lift a little. 

 

“So, wanna tell me what’s wrong?” 

 

The ghost of a smile in Al’s vanishes. 

 

“Could I…do you think you can get me Winry?” 


	2. Chapter 2

There’s silence on the line, enough time for Alphonse to start wondering if he had to repeat the request, until Edward says, “Sure. Just wait a minute.” 

 

Three minutes go by. Alphonse watches the large hand of the clock tick away, second by second, and just before the fourth minute, Winry’s voice greets him. 

 

“Hey, Al.” 

 

He nearly sobs at the sound of her voice. She’s worried, he can tell she is; he has worried them at this hour, but Alphonse can’t help to feel, despite the miles and miles between them, like he’s safe.

 

“Al, what is it? What’s wrong?”

 

“I had a really bad fight with Mei,” he starts, and Winry is about to interrupt so he quickly adds, “About Scar.” He hears her take a sharp breath, and then nothing. He knows she has not hung up on him, but he wonders just how long she’ll keep up with the silence. “Winry? Are you there?” 

 

“I’m here,” she confirms. “Just…taking a minute to put my head together.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Alphonse murmurs, guilt is starting to eat at him. “I shouldn’t have…” 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alphonse,” she says it so loudly, that Alphonse thinks the buzz in his ears will never go away. He’s about to complain about it but then she continues in a broken whisper, “We’re always here for each other, right?”

 

“Y-yes, always.”

 

“Well, then. What about Scar?”

 

His whole body coils at the sound of her speaking that name. It’s controlled, harsh, sad, furious and, impossibly so, compassionate. 

 

“She’s inviting him to our wedding. The Xingese ceremony.” 

 

“Yes, of course she would. She’s in her right to do so.” 

 

“But,” he huffs, “I’m against it. I don’t want him there, not in the same space you will be, not anywhere close to my family, I never want to see him. I know he was big help during the Promise Day, but to me he’s still a heartless killer. The things he did, what you suffered because of him…I can’t deal with it, Winry. What does that say about me?”

 

“That you love me,” she answers without missing a beat. “That you love us.”

 

“I really, really do. But I also love Mei, and I’m making her unhappy with this. How do I choose?

 

“You don’t have to choose, Al. It’s not like that at all.” He repeats her words in his head three times, four times, but he can’t grasp what she means, and as if she could hear his head working, she goes on to explain, “no one would ask that of you. Not me, not Ed. Certainly not Mei.” 

 

“It feels like I have to. Scar and Mei, or all that I believe in.” 

 

“Do you believe in Mei?” 

 

“With all my heart,” he replies without thinking of it. 

 

“Not all choices are bad, Al. You know that.”

 

“What do you think? About Scar coming to my wedding, having to see him?” 

 

“I don’t know,” she answers, sounding as lost as he is for a moment. “He killed my parents, even after they saved him. But save him they did, right? I don’t want to spit on my parents’ graves by being negative towards his existence, but there are days I feel so angry.” He hears Edward whispering in the distance, surely telling Winry to take it easy, but she’s determined to go on. “And then, when I do feel that fury inside of me, I remember what he did for this country, for peoples’ lives, even after all the pain that same people put him and his own people through, and I can see a path of regrets and amends and hope.” 

 

Al closes his eyes as he listens to Winry speak and he sees that path, too. He doesn’t see Scar the killer, but the Ishvalan building a better future, a sort of unity. He sees Miles and Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye. He sees Granny working on her prosthetics for Amestrians and Ishvalan and all that knock on her door. He sees every person that he and his brother ever crossed on that path and when he opens his eyes again and releases a breath, Winry asks, “You’re seeing it, aren’t you?”

 

“I see it.”

 

“So? What’s it gonna be?” 

 

“First, I need to have a long talk with Mei.” About Scar and about what she had said about him marrying a murderer. That last piece he would never tell anyone, as it seemed a matter too private to speak to others, even if it is his own family. “Second, I guess…well, I’ll ask her to put him in the farthest table possible. Away from you, and Brother, and the little ones.” 

 

“You worry too much, silly. We’ll be fine. I’ll be so far along I won’t be able to focus on anything but my huge belly. In between my tears, because I’m going to cry and you know it.”

 

“Tears of joy,” Edward teases and yelps. Alphonse can imagine an elbow hitting right between his ribs.

 

“I really can’t wait to see you. I miss you all, so much,” Al says, a hole beginning to form in his heart. Alphonse loves Xing—he has no intention of leaving Xing any time soon—but there are times he longs to be there with Brother and his family. Their family.

 

“We miss you.” 

 

He can imagine the scene in the old house back in Resembool. Crowded around the telephone, Winry with a hand on her belly and Edward by her side, holding their son up in his arms. It brings him peace knowing he’ll soon get to witness that in real life, with his own two eyes. If their happy reunion doesn’t end in shambles after Scar’s presence opens old wounds.

 

“Hey, Winry?” 

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“Think about it this way, it can’t be that different from when we were North.” 

 

“But what about—” he insists. 

 

“Not buts, Al. If I took the time to heal him back then, offered myself to be his hostage, and travelled with him, do you not think I’m capable of standing him for a few hours at my brother’s wedding?”

 

She’s right, he must admit it. Winry is a lot more stronger, courageous, and kind than most people. So it is with that knowledge and her reassurances that it’ll be fine that he lets the matter go. Still, he doubts the worry will ever fade. 

 

“Okay,” he concedes. “Try and get some sleep? I think the reason those two are up so late is that you give them too much energy.”

 

“I have a lot of work to do!”

 

“Just this once,” Al tries to negotiate. “It’s driving Brother crazy that you work so much and don’t catch a break.”

 

“Fine, but only because you asked.” 

 

“You know you can admit you’re tired,” Al laughs and Winry laughs along with him. She manages to say goodbye before the phone is snatched away from her hand by Ed. 

 

“Al? Are you feeling better now?” 

 

“Meh, I’ll call you later and let you know.” 

 

He hangs up and stands, knowing full well that the hours he let pass are going to work against him. He hopes that the issue of palace gossip won’t be too bad, as it isn’t so late that he won’t run into others while making his way to Mei’s room, the gossip being their fight or all the things they could say about him going into the Crown Princess’ room at night. That last part was always a subject of endless scandalous whispers. 

 

He walks with his shoulders straight and looking right ahead, a stance he started copying from Mustang in the early months of his first stay in the palace, back when he was seventeen and fresh in his newly restored body, when people weren’t so friendly of the Amestrian getting too much favor from their Emperor. It feels foreign on him, this way of carrying himself, but it makes him keep walking to his destination, and nothing is as important as that. 

 

By the time he makes it to the grand doors of Mei’s room, he looks both ways and realizes there’s no longer people around, except the guards that are surely hiding in the shadows. He closes his eyes, inhales and exhales, concentrates on the air around him, the ground bellow him, and slowly the pulses that are now a permanent faint beat become louder and louder and flood his senses. 

 

One guard by each window, two just above him, in the indentation of the high ceilings, another three by the shadows created by the marble pillars, and the brightest of the pulses, Mei inside her room. 

He knocks once and speaks up, enough that she’ll hear him through the thick door. “Mei, it’s me. I just want to talk.”


	3. Chapter 3

Seconds go by and no response, no sign of movement coming from the room. 

 

“Look, I’m not moving until you talk to me. If I have to sleep out here then—”

 

One of doors swing open to show an annoyed Mei. “I was putting on a robe, Alphonse, don’t be dramatic. You really are so much like your brother at times, do you know that?”

 

He takes a quick look at her and his shoulders hunch. Her hair is coming loose from her simple braid, her mouth is set in a scowl, there are bags under her eyes, and her face is flushed. It’s not the kind he likes; flush from a heated kiss, or a good laugh, or the red that spreads across her cheeks when she’s flirting with him, or when she’s catching her breath after…well, _after_.

 

She opens the door wider and when he makes no move to go inside, she raises an eyebrow and says, “I thought you wanted to talk?” He nods, eyes going to the floor. “Well, come in then.”

 

This room is as familiar as his own. He’s been sneaking here for more than a year and half now, even if he guards always know what he’s doing and they are under strict orders to let him in no matter what. It’s quite big, bigger than the room Alphonse lives in, but not bigger than Ling’s — _that_ is just absurd. 

 

Out of habit, he walks to her bed and sits on his designated side. When he realizes what he’s done, he blurts out his first apology, “I’m sorry, would you rather we go to your sitting room?” 

 

“No,” she answers in a clipped tone and pours two glasses of water. She hands him one of the glasses and he takes it with hesitation. 

 

“I’m not thirsty?” 

 

“No, but you need something to do with your hands,” she takes a sip of the water and as second thought adds, “and I can tell you’re dehydrated.” Al’s fingertips touch his lips and sure enough they are cracked, something he knows bothers Mei to no end. 

 

“So,” she starts, “What have you done in the last hours?”

 

“Cried, sat in the dark, spoke to Winry,” he tells her in a low voice. They have always being completely honest, even when fighting like this, even in their worst fight. “You?” 

 

“Cried, sat in the dark, spoke to Lan Fan.”

 

They sit side by side, staring ahead and avoiding looking at each other. The silence is starting to get to them, both clearly waiting for the other to start the ugly conversation awaiting them, but too afraid to do so. 

 

Al takes a deep breath and says, “I’m not going to say I’m sorry about this whole Scar thing, but I am sorry that I made you feel bad about your past, what you’ve had to do. I don’t jud—”

 

“Yes, you do. You’ve made a conscious decision not to kill anyone ever, and I made a conscious decision to survive no matter what. I get that you judge me, and anyone that goes against your philosophy, and I’m alright with that. If you start lying to me, I won’t have that.” 

 

“I don’t judge you. That’s so true that I didn’t even give it a second thought until _you_ brought it up today,” he replies with the same fierceness she was showing. He finally angles89 his body so that he’s facing her. She refuses to look at him just yet. “I don’t judge you or your actions. It just…it makes me sad, and confused, and angry you felt that you had to. And you know I’ve done something horrible.”

 

And to this day he remembers the awful feeling that crept up on his body as he activated the circle along with his brother, the dread crawling up his spine when the eye opened up and the black tentacles danced from the lines they had carefully written down. 

 

And his punishment.

 

“If you choose to ignore it…” 

 

“I don’t ignore it, Mei. I recognize it and accept it and choose to build a life with you.” 

 

“Why can’t you accept it and go on when it comes to Scar?”

 

He really can’t give her an answer that wouldn’t upset her so he shrugs and says, “Many reasons. And he did try to take my brother away from me, many times.” 

 

“Don’t you think he has done more than enough to atone for that?” 

 

“That’s not up to me.” He refuses to go there. “So I talked to Winry about it, and I still hate the idea of him being there, but you go ahead and send the invite. Just put him somewhere Winry won’t cross paths with him, and as a gift to me, away from us, too.”

 

His gaze goes to the fresh sheet, unable to keep up his put-together charade when Mei has yet to look at him. Then, arms wrap around him. 

 

“Of course, Al.” She kisses his cheek. “Thank you. And it goes without saying, but I want the same — a life with you. I’m sorry for throwing the whole murderer thing in your face, but it has been eating at me and I didn’t know how to deal with that, I’ve been too afraid.” 

 

“I’m afraid, too. I hate fighting with you.”

 

“It’s not my favorite thing,” she agrees. “We’re okay?”

 

“We’re perfect. Just talk to me, however ugly it is. Please.”

 

“I promise.” She kisses his cheek a second time, and the sensation makes Al sigh. His hand makes contact with the silky texture of her robe and he caresses it in a trance. All these years, and still he finds more wonders to his once trapped senses. “Stay with me tonight?”

 

Alphonse pulls his focus away from the robe and stares into Mei’s eyes. 

 

“Oh. Really? You want to?” 

 

Mei scrunches her nose. “What is wrong with you, pervert? No. I meant to sleep, Alphonse!” He blushes a little at her indignation, and then, as a second thought, she adds, “And I’m exhausted. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Unless you’re okay with me falling asleep halfway in?” 

 

“You are doing wonders to my pride, you know,” he grumbles. “Scoot.” 

 

His shoes hit the floor next to the bed and he loses his shirt. 

 

“Like you wouldn’t fall asleep, too! Look at those shadows under your eyes.”

 

“Planning a wedding is stressful. We should have accepted the council’s help.” He opens his arms for her to snuggle into him. She snorts at his joke before going to him. 

 

“Sleep. We won’t be tired tomorrow morning, how does that sound?” 

 

He smiles into her hair and tightens his arms around her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last one, and it will be a small glimpse into their (Xingese) wedding!

**Author's Note:**

> I have always felt like the subject of Scar would be a touchy and problematic situation in Al and Mei's relationship, so here's my take on how that would go. This falls into the series After, pieces of work following the series epilogue. And yes, I couldn't think of a more boring title than that, lol.


End file.
